


A Coup in the Rain

by Dlxm950



Series: Warcraft Cinematic Recreations [4]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Humor, Betrayal, Comedic fluff, Comedy, Comfort/Angst, Coup d'état, Extended Metaphors, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forsaken Jaina Proudmoore, Gen, Horde, Horde Meetings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of the Alliance, Metaphors, Multi, Partner Betrayal, Political Coup, Rain, Thunder and Lightning, Undead Jaina Proudmoore, Warcraft Cinematic Recreation, meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dlxm950/pseuds/Dlxm950
Summary: Sylvanas stepped into the clearing with the appeal of a drowned cat but the charisma of a lion. Each step was with purpose as she calmly made her way into the clearing, her eyes glowing their usual crimson red and twinged with mild annoyance; as though the thought of two major Horde leaders fighting to the death were no more than a common street brawl that had interrupted her routine.Yet it was not the Warchief’s reaction that interested him the most, that honour belonged to the Forsaken woman beside her.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Series: Warcraft Cinematic Recreations [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810306
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	A Coup in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Another Cinematic Recreation from yours truly! Just before we get off here I just want to say that in my version of the cannon, Azshara and Najatar happened, before, the whole thing with Darek.

The sky above Stormsong Valley was grey at best. Thick, dark, clouds rolled in from the east; large cracks of lightning and continuous rolling thunder ringing like the drums of a coming army. It was hardly the weather one would choose to host a meeting of the Horde leadership in, yet here Baine stood. His fur billowing slightly in the wind as he stood in the middle of the gathered ring of leaders.

Around him, the others were faring far worse than he. Poor Thalyssra was practically shivering in her mage robes while Liadrin and Lor’themar fared no better in there, apparently, tissue-thin armour. The Orcs, unsurprisingly, seemed unfazed by the turning weather; their thick skin and large muscles blocking them from most of the elements' wrath. Yet, even though some were more comfortable than others, they all seemed to share a common feature. 

A heavy scowl could be found on the faces of all those present.

It was no secret what this meeting would be about; the sudden disappearance of Darek Proudmoore roughly a week ago had caused quite the stir. Baine could still remember how Sylvanas' screeches had echoed throughout the valley of strength. He had felt honestly bad for whichever unfortunate soul had the misfortune of telling her. The fact that there were five guards rather than six the next morning was telling enough though. 

They had all received the same summons, a rather plain letter calling them for council, but none of them were fools. No orders had come since the disappearance, no punishment had been issued, not even an emergency summons, that is, until now.

“Do you think she has discovered us?” Zelling whispered from Baine’s left, his voice cracked and wispy in the same way all Forsaken shared.

“We have covered our tracks well. I imagine she will simply use this to try and smoke out the rat. Should we keep our calm, we should be fine.” Baine replied, his voice low and soft so as to make sure wandering ears did not park themselves where they were not wanted.

“So...does anyone possess a clue as to why we have been summoned so urgently in this Belore cursed weather?” Lor’themar asked as he wrapped a particularly large scarf around his neck. 

“What’s the problem, Theron? Surely a people as great as the  _ High Elves _ can survive a little bad weather?” Geya’rah taunted from across the fire, the storm releasing a massive crack of thunder as she did so.

“Hardly.” Lor’themar scoffed. “Some of us simply enjoy the finer things than rolling in the mud.” 

“Why you-”

“Enough, Geya, some of us still be liken to have our eardrums by de time the Warchief arrives.” Rokhan cut in, causing the Mag’har Orc to glare fiercely at the Darkspear Troll.

“Woh woh woh, let's not be  _ too _ hasty here, a fight between a golden elf and Mag’har Orc could draw quite the crowd.” Gallywix cut in, his nasally voice grating against the ear of any unfortunate enough to hear it.

“Be quiet, Goblin! The absolute  _ last _ thing we need is  _ you _ trying to push another scheme in the middle of this war!” Liadrin growled out, her ears pinned flat against her head as her hand reached for the rather large sword strapped to her back. 

“Bring it, princess, you got another thing coming if you think I’d go down that easy. My bodyguard will beat the snot out of you!” 

“I don’t know what else I would expect from the likes of you.” Rexxar cut in, his low timber rolling across the clearing. “Refusing to even face your opponent, you lack all honour.”

“Honour? Who cares about honour? A fight like that, I’d be rich!” 

It was possibly the worst thing the Trade Prince could have decided to say. It proved to be one step too far across the line for Rexxar. The large half-orc pulled his Axe from his back and began to menacingly approach the trade prince. The Goblin leader tried to back away but found himself unable to as Etrigg stepped behind him. A small dagger was tossed to the ground in front of him, the tiny weapon acting more like a sword in the much smaller Horde leader's hands. His tiny green knees were practically quaking as his eyes lit up in fear, unable or unwilling to look away as he watched Rexxar take his battle position.

“Hey,  _ hey _ , let’s not...uh...let's not be too hasty here. Were all in this together, right? Horde, Allies, friends even. Friends don’t fight friends, right?...anyone?” 

If someone was feeling inclined to help the trade prince they were good at not showing it. Baine would, of course, intervene. Gallywix was correct in saying that Horde did not fight Horde, but he would let Rexxar intimidate the trade prince first. A valuable lesson in watching what one said was long overdue. 

Yet it was not to be.

Just as Rexxar prepared to charge the voice of the Warchief rang loud and clear. 

“Enough!” 

Sylvanas stepped into the clearing with the appeal of a drowned cat but the charisma of a lion. Each step was with purpose as she calmly made her way into the clearing, her eyes glowing their usual crimson red and twinged with mild annoyance; as though the thought of two major Horde leaders fighting to the death were no more than a common street brawl that had interrupted her routine. 

Yet it was not the Warchief’s reaction that interested him the most, that honour belonged to the Forsaken woman beside her. 

Jaina Proudmoore had been many things in her life: a peacemaker, a protector, a visionary, not to mention the most powerful mage Azeroth had ever seen. It had always been one of Baine’s greatest regrets that he had not done more to prevent her fate. She had sacrificed herself in Theramore to save as many lives as possible, but even her great power had paled in comparison to that of the Mana bomb. She, along with nearly nine thousand people, were killed that day. Their lives cut tragically short only to be denied even the gift of death.

It was only upon the city's destruction that they all learned what exactly lay below the mighty human settlement. While the geography had made the location a strong symbol of cohabitation between the Alliance and the Horde it also sat on a significant spiritual sight, the location having been used thousands of years ago as a burial site by the ancient Trolls that had inhabited the land. 

So, when the mana bomb exploded, it not only killed the residents of Theramore but also reawakened the ancient death magic lying below. Not even three days after the event and reports began to flood in of mana infused undead wandering the ruins, of cursed souls shuffling through the area, killing and consuming the life essence of any foolish enough to go near. It got so bad that plans began to be drawn for the evacuation of Orgrimmar, lest the Horde capital fall to the same fate of those wary adventurers. 

It proved to be an unnecessary plan though, as Sylvanas informed them all that the Forsaken would handle the issue; their lack of life essence meaning they wouldn’t be targeted and their undead forms proving far more capable of dealing with the Arcane Radiation present. She had marched in a thousand strong and stepped out with nearly ten times that. The newly named Mana Charged of Theramore having been pacified and aided by their Scourge raised cousins. 

As it turned out, Sylvanas and Jaina had been married before the former’s fall in Quel’thalas, meaning that when the Mana Charged joined the Horde the Forsaken suddenly found themselves with two queens instead of one. They seemed to rule well together, balancing the other out and making sure neither crossed any particularly nasty lines. Lately, though, Jaina had seemed less like a co-ruler and more like an unwilling tag along. Stuck following Sylvanas lead while she, and her people, suffered the consequences. 

In the current moment she seemed tense; her face a perfect mask of calm but unable to do the same for the rest of her body: the hunching of her shoulders, the frantic movements of her eyes, the occasional wisp of Arcane energy that leaked from her lips. Those charged blue orbs met Baine's own eyes, Jaina’s widening with panic for just a fraction of a moment before it was gone, but it was enough. 

She knew, about Darek, about Baine’s betrayal. She  _ knew, _ which meant Sylvanas knew. His own face hardened at the unfortunate turn of events but he would not allow himself to crumble so soon. There was a chance, no matter how slim, that Jaina had kept that information to herself. Sylvanas certainly gave nothing away, not that she ever really did but that was beside the point. He still had hope, even if the chances were slim to none.

He was pulled back from his thoughts by Sylvanas' voice ringing once more, its magical echo tinged with patronizing tones and mock rapprochement, as though she were speaking to toddlers, not adults.

“I summon a meeting and this,  _ this _ , is how I find you? Squabbling like children over hurt feelings as thousands of our soldiers die each day?” 

He may have hated her words but he could not deny their effectiveness. Like scolded younglings, the various leaders either turned their heads or dropped their gazes to the ground. Only one seemed unaffected and that was Rexxar, the half Orc half Draenei soldier simply scoffing before returning to his position in the circle. Gallywix seemed to nearly pass out in relief at the Warchief intervention, dare Baine say it, the Goblin almost seemed like he wanted to offer Sylvanas a discount as he gratefully returned to his position among the Horde leadership.

Once they had all settled though, the real game began.

Sylvanas moved to stand at the head of the ring as she informed them all why they had been summoned.

“I have troubling news.” She started her voice low as she slowly met each of their gazes. “It seems we have traitors in our midst.” 

That had a few leaders shuffling nervously, a few wandering eyes looked for who might be the unlucky culprit, but even more, were simply afraid. No one wanted to be the unfortunate souls to have a charge of treason dropped at their feet, least of all for a crime as grave as this.

Sylvanas slowly began to walk around the circle as she continued, “Most of you need fear nothing.” She told them, making sure to pointedly look at Rokhan and Thalyssra as she went while Jaina did the same with Rexxar and Lor’themar on the other side before her gaze finally came to rest of Baine.

“But Darek Proudmoore didn’t flee to Kul Tiras by himself. He had help didn’t he…” 

For a brief moment a single bead of sweat ran down beneath Banes fur, surely this was it, he had been discovered. She would slaughter him here before the hammer of her vengeance fell swift against his people. Yet once again he was surprised when instead her head snapped to his right.

“Zelling.” 

The newly risen Forsaken man stared at his queen in shock and horror, fumbling and sputtering as he desperately tried to come up with  _ something _ to prove his innocence. 

Beside Sylvanas Jaina had summoned a ball of bright blue Arcane magic, it crackled and rolled in her hand as the unstable energies grew in power. Her face was still carefully neutral but Baine had a feeling she didn’t really want to be doing it. Yet he had little chance to ponder that thought, choosing, instead, not to allow another to pay for his crimes.

“Stop!” He thundered, causing all heads to turn towards him. “I returned Darek Proumdoore to his family.” His earlier suspicions were unfortunately confirmed though as Sylvanas stared at him with a complete lack of surprise, he would not let that deter him though. If he was to go down this day then he would have his piece, earth mother be damned!

“You raised him as a Forsaken. But you planned to deny him his free will. To violate his mind! I could not stand by and permit such depravity to unfold.”

Sylvanas stared at him blankly for a moment before she responded, her voice surprisingly genuine as his fate was sealed.

“Thank you...for your honesty.” She told him before Jaina released the Arcane orb from her hand. 

It was barely even half a second before it connected with Zelling's body, the Forsaken man letting loose a horrible howl of pain before it, and his undeath, was cut short. A small pile of ashes on the ground was the only evidence that he had ever even existed. 

The other Leaders stared in horror at the events unfolding, yet none seemed willing to step forward lest they risk their own lives in the process. 

“Banshee!” Baine cried out in rage, fully prepared to fight the woman no matter how poorly he would fare. “Are we nothing more than pawns in your game?! You betray the Horde!” 

Sylvanas was still infuriatingly calm and collected as she responded, her voice almost casual with how relaxed she seemed. 

“No. He did. And so did you. Take him.” 

An unbelievably tense moment followed her command as not a single one of the purely Forsaken guards around them moved to follow her command.

“Take him!” Sylvanas shouted, her voice challenging even the storm above as it let loose another monstrous crack of thunder. 

Another moment passed before anything happened. Behind Sylvanas Jaina gave a nod of her own to one of the guards, one which Baine could barely make out of the corner of his eye before they began to move. However, instead of moving to arrest Baine, they instead stepped towards Sylvanas. 

The Banshee realized what was happening too little too late as her arms were suddenly wretched behind her by Jaina and bound in magic dampening chains. 

The Wachief wasn’t going to go down without a fight though as she began to struggle and writhe but Jaina had clearly thought this through. Sylvanas' feet were quickly frozen to the ground as the second Forsaken Queen stripped the first of all her weapons, only stepping back to allow the guards room once she was sure her wife possessed no threat. The guards were quick to grab the former Warchief by her shoulders and force her to her knees as they prepared to transport her away.

“I have seen you for what you are, Dalal'Surfal. You have led the Horde to ruin and put all our lives at risk for nothing more than your own petty revenge.” Jaina told her as she manoeuvred herself to stand before her lover. 

When Sylvanas refused to meet her gaze Jaina lowered herself and brought a hand up to her wife’s cheek to slowly turn her head to face her. What Baine saw was pure, unbridled rage. The former Forsaken queen was practically foaming at the mouth as she glared at the surrounding leaders. 

“I have nothing to say to the likes of you.” She spat out. 

Jaina winced at the harsh words but eventually waved for the guards to take Sylvanas away. The undead elf begrudgingly allowed, because there was no way she would be taken by force, the guards to escort her away, glaring at every leader she could as she passed them.

Above the storm seemed to settle itself, the thunder and lightning giving way to rain as the heavens opened. Within moments they were all soaked, yet the shock of the events had them all rooted in their positions. All except one that is…

“I knew I should have charged more for the tickets…” Gallywix muttered to himself. 

It was another poorly timed comment. It would seem his confrontation with Rexxar had done little to curb his tongue but it proved to be enough to release them all from their spell. Unfortunately for the trade prince, not everyone shared his views.

In less than a second the Goblin leader found the tip of Jaina’s staff less than an inch away from his face, the gem socketed there glowing harshly in the dark light as Jaina’s eyes shone just as fiercely. For a brief moment, Bane thought the small green cheat would meet his end at last, yet once again fate seemed to be on his side as Eitrigg grabbed the Goblin by the shoulder and dragged him away. 

That seemed to be a sign for the others as the various Horde leaders began to disperse. Some went back to whatever it was they had been doing before the meeting, such as Geya’rah, while others (such as Rexxar) simply wandered off into the rain. After a few moments only Baine, Lor’themar, and Rokhan remained. 

Cautiously, Baine stepped towards Jaina. Making sure to take large steps and maintain a wide stance so the highly volatile mage could see him, he gently laid a hand on her shoulder. Even that small gesture proved to be too much though as Jaina practically crumbled to the ground, her whole body shaking as her staff flopped lifelessly to the ground beside her. Quickly Baine scooped her into his arms, using his much larger frame to shield her from the rain. 

“We should get her out of the rain.” Lor’themar said softly as he grabbed the Forsaken Queen’s staff from the ground.

“So, we all jus gonna ignore what just happened?” Rokhan demanded incredulously. “This be havin serious ramifications! What do we be doin if de Alliance attacks? We got no Warchief to give orders! Chaos gonna run rampant among de troops!”

Those were serious questions, ones that could not wait for the council to convene for answers. But before Baine could throw in his own two coppers a weak thumping against his chest had him looking down. Jaina was glaring up at him from his arms before she pointedly looked between himself and the ground. Understanding the meaning of the look he quickly eased her back onto her own two feet before taking a step back.

Jaina seemed to take a moment to collect herself before taking her staff back from Lor’themar and turning to face them. She still looked tired, as much as any Forsaken or Mana Charged could, but her voice rang strong. 

“Have all the troops across all the warfronts retreat to defensible positions and await further orders, in the meantime I want someone to send a letter to the Alliance requesting a cease-fire. It is practically a guarantee that S.I.7 has already learned of what has transpired here, so I imagine by the time the official correspondence goes through Anduin will have been fully briefed and leap at the opportunity.” 

For a moment none of them moved, too surprised at the sudden onslaught of orders and who they were coming from to really process any of it. 

“Did. I. Stutter.” Jaina demanded slowly, her voice gaining a dangerous edge as her eyes hardened.

Baine was the first to snap out of it, offering a small bow as he responded. 

“Your will be done, Warchief.”

The other two were quick to follow, Rokhan offering a salute as he promised to get the Army in line while Lor’themar murmured something about gathering all the leaders once more in Orgrimmar before they too disappeared into the rain.

“I believe my thanks are in order, Warchief.” He said softly as the two of them began the slog through the mud to get up to the command tent. “Were it not for you I would likely be facing my death at this very moment.”

“Sylvanas did not plan to kill you, not yet at least. She wanted to use you as bait to lure out any other disloyal elements within the Horde.” Jaina told him, never once turning to face him. “One of the champions betrayed you to us, told us everything about your plan with Zelling. I knew then that I had to act, lest everything I had ever stood for come crumbling down around me. I coordinated with the necessary parties and waited for my opportunity. Zelling was an unfortunate sacrifice but a necessary one.”

“You did all you could. You saved me from a horrible fate and have guaranteed us the possibility of peace for the first time in what feels like forever.” 

“Then why does it feel like I failed?”

He had no answer for her there. He could understand why she might feel that way though. She had betrayed the woman she loved in the worst way possible, even if it was for the best. She was fully within her rights to feel conflicted.

“None of us can ever truly know what consequences our actions will bring, all we can do is hope they were the best ones and continue forward.” He offered as they finally reached the command tent.

Jaina gave an acknowledging hum but said nothing else as she stared out into the valley. 

Baine stood with her for a few more minutes before stepping inside. Even he had his limits when it came to rain. But the storm would pass, giving way to a new day and a brighter tomorrow. He could not make it stop, he couldn’t even change how hard the storm came, all he could do was ride it out and hope for the best. 

Because what were any of them without hope?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! As always feel free to leave a comment, constructive criticism is always welcome, just try and keep it respectful. Also, if you have a specific cinematic you want me to recreate tell me in the comments below.


End file.
